


Crimson Decay

by DiseaseofMyMind



Series: The Bitter Crimson Tales [1]
Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal, Anilingus, Ass to Mouth, Assault, Big Sisters, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Blood Sharing, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Breasts, Brother/Sister Incest, Brothers, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Devotion, Drama, Dysfunctional Relationships, EWUCollections, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Erotica, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, FCFics, FWUCollections, Female Characters, Friendship, Good Writing, Heterosexual Character, Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexuality, Homoeroticism, Incest, Incest Kink, Injury, Inspired by Crimson Peak (2015), Jealousy, Killing, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Large Cock, Licking, Little Brothers, Love, M/M, Major Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Masturbation, Murder, Murderers, Mutilation, Nipple Licking, Nipple Torture, Nipples, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Original Character(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Pre-Relationship, Prostitution, Relationship(s), Rimming, Sadism, Series, Sex, Sexual Content, Shipping, Sibling Incest, Sisters, Smut, Submissive Character, Teenagers, Tit Torture, Torture, Trauma, Underwear, Underwear Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vampires, Violence, Well-Written, Women's Underwear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiseaseofMyMind/pseuds/DiseaseofMyMind
Summary: The best kisses are always bitter...Crimson Decay is the first story in The Bitter Crimson Tales. In the story, the reader is introduced to the wealthy and dead (well, undead I should say) Sharpe siblings. The deadly brother and sister duo haunt the night living on stolen blood. The oppressed Thomas Sharpe longs for the touch of someone else besides his stifling depraved sister. Enters a beautiful boy and an exotic beauty. Oh, the drama!
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Female Character & Original Male Character, Thomas Sharpe & Original Character(s), Thomas Sharpe & Original Female Character(s), Thomas Sharpe & Original Male Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Original Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Original Female Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Bitter Crimson Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737808
Comments: 35
Kudos: 11
Collections: Erotic Writers United Kink, Erotic Writers United Multi, Erotic Writers United Taboo, Fanfiction Writers United Alternative Universe Collection, Fanfiction Writers United Explicit Collection, Fanfiction Writers United Multiples Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a non-canon story.  
> This story contains characters ages 16 and up in graphic sexual situations.  
> Tags will be updated as the story continues.
> 
> I will start by telling you, the reader, that this story is as far away from canon as can be. If that is something that doesn’t sit with you, then this story is not right for you. There were lots of things that I did like in the movie as well as things that I did not like. Honestly, I think it would have been better without the ghosts and having Edith do a bit of Nancy Drewing, but alas, I didn’t make the movie. Voilà, fan fiction! The biggest change is that Edith is dead right in the opening of the story, wasn’t a fan of hers. Sorry, girl was dumber than a box or rocks. Next, Lucille…ah, Lucille, Lucille, Lucille…Luuuucy, ain’t at home! I liked the idea of Lucille, but I did not like Lucille, if that makes sense. I thought she was flat, one dimensional, and butt fucking ugly with her ever present countenance of constipation. Honestly, in my opinion she wasn’t crazy enough, she was just all wrath like she was going through menopause and she very well may have with as old as she looked. Anyway, exit stage left Lucille Sharpe and enter Mavis Sharpe. Yes, I tore it down and built it right back up. Mavis is prettier (see link to story Pinterest) and has a more in-depth personality (at least I think so). Sooo, yea, I think it’s fair to say that I only liked Thomas…I swear it has nothing to do with Tom Hiddleston…Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I’m sorry but he stole the show. He is an amazingly talented and charismatic actor and I enjoy watching him on screen. Overall, I think Crimson Peak was a good movie, I mean, I did purchase it. It’s just that the only character from the movie in this story is Thomas Sharpe. If you don’t like OCs then this story isn’t for you, although I will say, I have been complimented on my OCs. So, just give it a try and if you don’t like it, then that’s fine and thank you in advance. So, basically, I pushed the story forward 4 years, gave The Sharpes some money, updated their wardrobe (for the time), made them drink blood, gave them a new house, and gave them an Alfred. I mean, seriously, what rich person doesn’t need an Alfred? Anyway, (lifts glass) cheers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see Thomas and Mavis in the woods concealing an atrocity. Desiring time to himself, Thomas goes to his office in London where he’s bothered by a beautiful boy and meets an interesting woman.
> 
> Intro:  
> England 1905
> 
> Darkness held all the secrets of the world. The moon and stars witnessed those that crept below. Deep below where the insects slept, a colony of soil, debris, and rot mingled to create life that pushed into the air, creating a habitable climate for those that crept above. Shadows cast illusions weaving among trees capturing lost souls that ventured across the English countryside. A bitter wind blew through the forest rustling the few lingering leaves on stripped trees. The leaves fluttered to the ground among a bed of their siblings where they languished transforming to rot.
> 
> All late evening the moon and stars watched as soil was dug from the earth, piling high on the ground creating peaks as a small grave grew. A petite booted foot pushed the broken doll into the grave. She tumbled down giving a thud when she hit the dirt on her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Contains graphic male masturbation.  
> Contains incestuous relationships.
> 
> Tags: teenager, emotional/psychological abuse, character death, obsession, love, murder, jealousy, erotica, explicit sexual content, masturbation, incest, devotion, orgasm
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Mavis Sharpe  
> Andrew Wainsworth  
> Darren Wiggins  
> Jacqueline Pitch
> 
> Edited: 7/20/20

**[Story Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/impala67cnk80q3/the-bitter-crimson-tales/) **

**[TBCT Vampire Overview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088246) **

England 1905

Darkness held all the secrets of the world. The moon and stars witnessed those that crept below. Deep below where the insects slept, a colony of soil, debris, and rot mingled to create life that pushed into the air, creating a habitable climate for those that crept above. Shadows cast illusions weaving among trees capturing lost souls that ventured across the English countryside. A bitter wind blew through the forest rustling the few lingering leaves on stripped trees. The leaves fluttered to the ground among a bed of their siblings where they languished transforming to rot.

All late evening the moon and stars watched as soil was dug from the earth, piling high on the ground creating peaks as a small grave grew. A petite booted foot pushed the broken doll into the grave. She tumbled down giving a thud when she hit the dirt on her back. The moonlight hit the pale blood splattered face displaying her accusing opaque eyes, gouged throat, and red soaked blond hair to the man who betrayed her. There she would languish becoming part of the colony below, soon to transform to rot as the leaves would.

“What are you waiting for, Thomas?” The sharp and direct voice cut through the cool night air. “Cover the whore and let’s be done with it.”

Thomas’ eyes moved to Mavis standing on the other side of the grave. He did not need light to see the fierce yet delicate face with his inhuman eyes. Night was his friend. Thoughts began to flow into his mind, but as fast as they came, he emptied them out. She possessed him, not even allowing him his own thoughts and it was exhausting holding up a mental guard all the time.

Lifting the shovel, Thomas began tossing dirt onto the broken doll, the metal and wood feeling heavier than it did when he was digging the grave.

“I don’t know why Wainsworth couldn’t see to this,” Thomas complained.

“You know very well why this task was set upon you, Thomas,” Mavis replied. “I’ve told you before not to get attached to whores. They are just our playthings. Like toys, whores eventually break, and we grow out of them.”

“She wasn’t a whore,” he stated with a bit of defense in his tone.

“Oh, Thomas.” A wicked smile that mocked rolled across her lips as she continued, “They are all whores.”

Choosing to remain silent, Thomas continued his task, covering the corpse’s face first as he could not stand the accusation in her dead eyes.

“You were falling in love with her,” Mavis continued her taunts as she moved across the leaves and settled on the edge of the cart, the horses stirring at the distribution of weight. “Weren’t you?”

“No,” Thomas replied, and his brevity was a confirmation of his feelings.

“What was the whore’s name again?”

“Edith. Her name is Edith.”

“ _Was_ Edith,” she stressed.

“Was.”

She smirked and continued, “There’ll never be a love more pure than ours, Thomas. You’re a man, I forgive you. We stay together…”

“…never apart,” they finished in unison.

Silence hung between them as Thomas continued to conceal their crime with unflagging stamina.

Mavis had a hold on Thomas’ heart so tight that it was amazing it had not burst making him combust from its destruction. As children, she was always there for him. Rocking him to sleep with a lullaby, taking all his hits, and cuddling him throughout the night. He owed her everything, but still, he wondered about the touch of a female other than his sister. He had never laid with another woman besides her.

“I want a boy,” Thomas spoke.

“No,” Mavis dismissed. “That’s what got us into this.”

“But we are strong and powerful, aren’t we?”

“We always were, but now…” she halted then continued, “now we live by the moon and suck crimson from whores.”

“I want a boy,” he repeated.

“No,” she said with weight.

The side of Mavis’ lips curled as she watched Thomas stab the shovel into the pile of dirt with vicious jabs knowing he wanted to shove it through her throat. She loved her brother, but he too was a plaything. In her world everyone was a toy and anyone of them could break.

Finishing his task, Thomas dumped the last pile of dirt onto the grave and kicked leaves over it. No one would find the grave out there in the English countryside among the trees and vegetation. The Sharpe estate consisted of acres of woodland, a vast playground for debauchery.

Tossing the shovel into the back of the cart, Thomas climbed onto the seat then helped Mavis to settle beside him. Taking the reins in his hands he drove the horses through the woods toward home.

The cool air whisked across the sibling’s cold dead skin and their black hair shimmered in the moonlight. Still guarding his thoughts, Thomas drove with an empty mind as Mavis laid her head upon his shoulder and hummed the lullaby. The song was not a simple lullaby, it was _their_ lullaby. The song she had sung for years that calmed him when their father was given to drunken fits, beating their mother with her wails carrying to the attic, their prison.

After all those years, Thomas still did not understand how their father managed a successful business in coal mining. In the daytime he cleaned himself and went to work, but once home he took to his spirits and all hell was raised in the Sharpe household. The man’s rage was so horrendous, one day he struck their mother so hard she toppled down the stairs cracking her skull on the bottom step, killing her in an instant.

Their father’s brutality did not stop with their mother’s death. During their adolescent years, Mavis became pregnant with Thomas’ child and their father beat her until she miscarried calling her a disgusting whore. Their father knew the child was Thomas’ as the two were not allowed to go anywhere, not even to school as they had a tutor.

Spirits were the end to their father as he drank himself to death given to alcohol poisoning. Thomas and Mavis sold the coal mines and he convinced her to invest their money into building mansion blocks in London. She agreed and it was a way he could escape her when he needed to. He built an office in every mansion block that was built and moved from one to another, so she was never sure where he was working.

The mansion blocks served as a mode of income as well to find victims for Mavis and Thomas. Edith had been one of their tenets. As a young heiress from America who was alone in the world, Edith made the perfect victim. There was something about the young girl that fascinated him, but it was not meant to be, and she died by Mavis’ hands. No, by _their_ hands, his being as bloody as his sister’s.

Reaching the exquisite and preserved manor, Thomas put the cart and horses away then made his way to the house with his sister. He was dirty, wanted to bathe and rest, but Mavis had other things on her mind. Moving close to him, she stroked his cheek.

“Let me sing to you,” Mavis cooed.

“I was actually thinking about going to the office tonight,” Thomas informed.

Mavis’ keen dark eyes examined his face. Thomas could feel her poking at his mind trying to invade his thoughts but all she saw was him working at his desk.

A smile cracked Mavis’ plump lips then she pressed them against Thomas’ thin delicate ones.

Ending the kiss, Mavis said, “I’ll start you a bath.”

Thomas watched Mavis ascend the stairs and he was relieved.

After bathing and dressing in his black suit, black waistcoat, white shirt, black necktie, black shoes, black bowler hat, black leather gloves, and black overcoat (yes, he loved black), Thomas had Wainsworth drive him to London in the motorcar. Thomas would sigh with relief and inhale the freshness of freedom from Mavis’ stifling love if he could breathe. Engaging in idle chitchat with Wainsworth, Thomas began to relax.

The Wainsworths had been serving the Sharpe family for centuries, but now Andrew was the last of the line without an heir to carry on the name. The man was fifty-three, in good health, and he was fierce in his loyalty keeping all the secrets of the Sharpe estate.

The ride to London was long and pleasant with the motorcar passing the dark hills and shaded trees of the countryside. A weight lifted from Thomas’ shoulders as they entered the city and continued to the West End. Stopping outside the office on Arlong Street, Wainsworth continued to engage in idle chitchat as Thomas remained in the motorcar. Thomas continued the chatting as to gaze at the delightful morsel perched upon the soap boxes outside his office.

The boy was huddled in tattered layers of clothing, his blond wavy hair streaming down his shoulders darken with dirt, and his fair skin grimy but still the lines of his youthful face displayed tantalizing appeal to Thomas’ lust. The boy’s soft lips resembled cushions, his brows were sculpted across delicate eyes, and the angle of his jaw was gentle and fine.

Thomas had always been interested in boys and when Mavis allowed him to bring one home to play, he picked the first appealing derelict he came across and that was a mistake. It was not a boy at all but a thirty-five-year-old vampire. However, this boy, Darren Wiggins, was a boy indeed. Beneath the stench of filth was the scent of adolescent human. Due to his beauty, Thomas allowed Darren to pan for money outside his office and had set out the soap boxes for his leisure. That was all Thomas would do for the boy, anything else would invite the boy’s destruction.

Darren lifted his eyes to the black motorcar and smiled at Thomas dipping his head to him. Thomas returned the gesture in kind.

After telling Wainsworth to pick him up two hours before sunrise, Thomas exited the motorcar and sent him on his way.

Standing on the street beneath the gas lamp, Thomas observed the boy who was now gazing off to the street watching people of the night go along their merry way.

“Fetch any coin today?” Thomas asked.

Addressing Thomas, a pleasant smile smoothed across the boy’s lips and he answered, “A bit.” Lifting the battered bowler hat that sat on the soap box beside him, Darren showed his coin earnings.

“I’d like to add to that,” Thomas stated as he removed his wallet from his pocket. He started to remove a couple shillings, but then removed a five pound note and tossed it into the hat.

Darren’s eyes blazed with astonishment and he exclaimed, “Thank you, Mr. Sharpe!”

“You’re quite welcome.” Thomas nodded as he returned his wallet to his pocket and passed into his office leaving the boy to his panhandling.

After removing his gloves and stuffing them into the pocket of his overcoat, Thomas removed his overcoat and hat, hung them on the coatrack, lit a kerosene lamp, then took his seat behind the polished walnut desk.

Thomas did not need windows on his office, but he had them installed. He could sit and people watch all night invading their minds. The heinous thoughts of the insufferable humans were an interesting thing. Plenty of murders, rapists, child molesters, and women beaters had passed the shop. Why did he think they were lesser than him? Was he even still human or something else? A superior form? How could that be when he haunted the night and feasted on blood? He was not superior, but a subspecies of the scum that roamed the earth.

Thumping his sharp nails (a gift of vampirism) on the desktop, Thomas pondered what to do to entertain himself. He could balance his ledger to check if his property manager were skimming the profits. The real reason he was there that night was to escape Mavis’ suffocation. Even sex with her was starting to wear on him. He wanted something else, a new flavor, texture, color, a change. He wanted a boy.

Lifting his eyes to the form huddled outside the window, Thomas’ thoughts filled with carnal intrigue. The idea of teasing and taunting the sweet body with his fangs and nails while making him utter the sweetest sighs was intoxicating. Now free from invasion, the thoughts and images danced in his mind. He wondered what it would feel like to rip into the boy’s throat while ejaculating at the same time.

Thomas’ body reacted to his lewd thoughts with his member starting to stiffen. The desk was long in the front concealing his lap and he had brought it for that main purpose. This was not the first time he had entertained himself in his office and doing so, he unbuttoned his fly and fished his semi-hard rod out his pants.

Long fingers flowed along the vein rich meat, traveling down then slipping up, squeezing, and twisting at the head as Thomas entertained himself imagining his fist was the warm sweet lips of the boy’s outside. His eyelids fluttered close as a surge of pleasure twinkled through the nerves of his form and his fangs elongated piercing his bottom lip to get a taste of blood.

An interruption jarred Thomas from his play and he snapped his eyes open. There was a gleam upon his mind and growing near. It was not Mavis but someone else probing his thoughts, touching, and seeking him.

A taxi stopped in front of the office and a dark figure exited drawing toward the door. Thomas did not have enough time to register anything else about the figure as he retracted his fangs, stuffed himself in his pants, stood, and rushed to the lavatory at the back of the office. Whipping his member out again, he stroked himself to a furious rate then ejaculated into the bowl. Through it all, he managed to stay quiet. After wiping himself, he pulled the chain and whisked his emission down the drain. Taking a moment to collect himself, Thomas ran his fingers through his hair, adjusted his tie, and straightened his waistcoat, then returned to the office.

“Good evening,” Thomas started in his upbeat charismatic manner but halted as the person in the room was the most dazzling work of art he had ever seen.

The woman was regal. She was dressed in a purple skirt of finery with thin black stripes and a jacket with puffed shoulders to match. An onyx brooch was attached to the high lacy collar of her shirt, perched high on her head of dark brown pinned and curled hair was a black hat adorned with purple flowers, and on the floor were two large satchels. However, the woman’s attire was not what was amazing, but it was her radiant exotic beauty. Her skin was a smooth ebony brown, the apples of her cheeks prominent and sloping to her smooth chocolate lips set in an alluring slight pout beckoning a kiss, and in her dark eyes was a wisdom of death. She was the one who called to him.

Neither of them spoke. They stared like statues situated opposite each other in a museum.

“Was it good for you?” The woman broke the silence with her voice flowing out drenched in rich honey, low and seductive holding an accent of America.

Blinking at her words, Thomas tilted his head in misunderstanding, “I beg your pardon?”

“Was it good for you?” She repeated her question.

Adjusting the angle of his head again, Thomas signaled that he still did not understand her words.

“Your emission,” she explained with a smirk rolling across her lips. “The load you rushed to wash down the toilet.”

Thomas lowered his head and his embarrassment was apparent. Curse the heightened senses of a vampire.

“You reek with lust,” the woman noted as she took the liberty to sit on the couch. “Don’t be ashamed, jouet. It is natural.”

Thomas knew French and the word jouet translated to toy.

“Why did you call me that?” Thomas asked.

The woman’s face fell as she gave him a blank stare.

“You are a vampire?” The woman asked although she knew he was.

“Yes, I am,” Thomas whispered becoming uncomfortable as he glanced out the window. The woman was brazened to talk about such things in the open. “So are you.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “A jouet is you. A toy because you are young and want to fuck everything.”

“Not…” he trailed, “everything…”

After glancing over her shoulder at the boy outside, she faced Thomas again and smirked, saying, “You want him, go get him. He would make a good snack, but he’s not thinking about you at all. He’s thinking about a meat pie. He’s really hungry.”

Thomas grew annoyed and hissed, “Please state your business and stay out of my head!”

A teasing smile crawled over the woman’s lips as she examined Thomas from head to toe admiring his long figure, fair skin, glossy black hair, soft blue eyes, sculpted cheeks, and all-around handsome face. At his pristine attire she assumed he was the one named on the door.

“I wish for a tenancy, Mr. Sharpe,” she related, “or do you not rent to blacks?”

“No. I mean yes. Yes, I do.” Thomas closed his eyes. He was sharp with conversation, but this woman was unnerving. Opening his eyes, he informed her, “Yes, I rent to all people, but I will make arrangements for my property manager to meet you tomorrow night to assist you in finding a tenancy that meets your needs.”

Thomas did not have any qualms about race, but even though slavery had not existed on English soil for over a century, discrimination was still heavy.

“I want you to show me, Mr. Sharpe,” she insisted.

“There are formalities, madam…” Thomas began but was cut short.

“A white man calling a black woman madam?”

Frowning, he asked, “What would you have me call you?”

“How about Jacqueline?” She replied as she began to stand.

Offering his hand to Jacqueline, Thomas noted her hesitation and when she did take his hand, he was astonished to find it warm in contrast to his cold one.

Noting the shocked expression on Thomas’ face, Jacqueline said, “In all due time, jouet.”

Standing in front of Thomas, Jacqueline released his hand and took in his scent.

“There is another upon you,” Jacqueline noted.

Thoughts of Mavis flashed through Thomas’ mind then he scooted them away with swiftness.

“Well, as I were,” Jacqueline continued. “I would like a tenancy and for you to show me, Mr. Sharpe.”

“If you insist,” Thomas relented. “I have several mansion blocks throughout London.”

“I want an apartment here, in this block.”

Thomas’ lips smoothed to a thin line. What was the woman getting at? Why was she there? He was both intrigued and alarmed. The last vampire he encountered, the one who created him and Mavis, was more controlling than Mavis.

“If you must,” Thomas agreed. “I’ll fetch the key to the current vacancy.”

Moving behind the desk, Thomas rustled through the wooden file drawers along the wall and retrieved a key.

“If you will follow me, Ms. Jacqueline,” Thomas instructed.

Grasping her large satchels, Jacqueline prepared to follow Thomas.

“Allow me,” Thomas insisted and reached for the satchels in Jacqueline’s hands.

“Why thank you.” Jacqueline relinquished her satchels to him, her coal pitch eyes drinking him in.

The desire in Jacqueline’s eyes filled Thomas with curiosity and longing, her charisma speaking to him and tugging him forward. Pushing forward and trying not to brush against her out of respect, he could feel her curved hip thrust out brushing against his thigh with a slight touch. He tried not to think of the touch and the electricity that passed. He tried to clear his mind around her not wanting her to use it against him.

“I will not pry anymore, Mr. Sharpe,” Jacqueline spoke as she followed the tall man. “If it disturbs you that much.”

“It would please me immensely,” Thomas replied.

A soft feminine laugh full of amusement stirred from the woman’s lips.

Jacqueline allowed Thomas to lead her through the backdoor and across the well-groomed courtyard to the large span of red brick apartments. Entering the building, they boarded the elevator and was carried to the third floor.

Exiting the elevator behind Thomas, Jacqueline noted how smooth and elegant he moved across the floor. She watched his strong shoulders rotate as he walked, masculine yet delicate. Still, with all his assets and grace, there was a sadness sat upon him that was thick. It intrigued her.

“Here you are, apartment 371,” Thomas announced as he set the satchels down and unlocked the door. Pushing the door open, he allowed Jacqueline to enter first.

Entering the dark space, Jacqueline gazed around the spacious apartment ignoring the matches upon the grand fireplace for the gaslights as her inhuman eyes saw everything. Dark walnut picture rails lining the walls, and lavish cornicing in white with flower detail bordering the high ceiling welcomed her.

“I can arrange for shutters to be placed on the windows to block the sun,” Thomas informed after he carried in the satchels, set them on the floor, and closed the door. “There is an icebox if you choose to store your meals, and there is a fresh bed that has never been used.”

“Stored blood? How quaint. Nothing finer than a fresh meal,” Jacqueline replied.

“Indeed.”

“Do you store blood?” She asked as she strolled around the room.

“Sometimes it is more convenient and discrete than hunting every day.”

Jacqueline shrugged her shoulders and made her way back to standing in front of Thomas.

“Will your husband be joining you soon?” Thomas inquired.

Jacqueline laughed.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Thomas excused himself.

“I’m not married,” Jacqueline replied as she recovered.

“I can’t believe that,” he voiced aloud before he could catch himself.

“Oh, why is that?” She asked as she drifted close to him.

“I…” he trailed.

“Say what’s on your mind, Mr. Sharpe.”

Thomas wanted to say what was on his mind but thoughts of how Mavis would feel if she ever found out kept him silent.

“Is it her whose scent lingers on you?” Jacqueline inquired in a gentle and cunning tone beckoning him. “There’s a sadness upon you Mr. Sharpe. It weighs on your center. When something is so heavy a burden it is good for us to lighten the load.”

“I shall like to go now,” Thomas replied.

“I’m not keeping you.”

“I shall have my manager leave a note detailing your payment. First payment is due by the end of the week.”

After speaking the last words, Thomas gave Jacqueline her key then exited the apartment.

As he strolled across the courtyard, Thomas could feel eyes boring into the back of his head. Inspecting the apartments over his shoulder, he saw Jacqueline standing in her window watching him. Returning his attention to the path in front of him, he picked up his pace wanting to be out of her sight.

Back in his office, Thomas sank into the seat behind his desk and let his tension ebb away. Bringing his fist to his mouth, he dragged his fangs along his flesh pricking it. Even retracted his fangs were sharp (another gift of the undead).

Moments passed and Thomas realized he had been sitting with his eyes closed. Opening his eyes, he saw Darren was gone for the night.

There were too many distractions around the office. Perhaps tomorrow Thomas would go to the one on Century Street.

Shuffling papers around the desk, Thomas strove for something to occupy his mind. Finding his ledger, he set to balancing it, letting the numbers put his mind to ease.

\----

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	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas seeks solace in his workshop only to be infringed upon by Mavis' antagonistic nature.
> 
> Intro:  
>  As ebony and ivory keys were caressed by wispy fingers, a solemn melody moaned from the piano. The melody drifted upward filling the spacious manor that was so hollow of life one would expect ghosts to stir in the halls. The melody touched and caressed the senses pulling at the stopped hearts of the two beings as dark memories played at the recesses of their minds. One sibling seemed to revel in the melancholy while the other drowned in it. All the way to the top of the grand manor, the dreadful pitch found its target who was sitting, no, hiding in his workshop.
> 
> Reclined in the wooden chair, Thomas sat in his room of trinkets trying to figure out what to tinker with. His long fair fingers were laced together across his middle while his elbows hung on the arms of the chair. He was slumped so far down in the chair that an inch more and he would be on the floor, but his planted and splayed feet kept him situated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Contains incestuous relationships.
> 
> Tags: emotional/psychological abuse, obsession, love, no sex, jealousy, incest, devotion, blood drinking, drama
> 
> Original Character:  
> Mavis Sharpe
> 
> Edited: 7/20/20

**[Story Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/impala67cnk80q3/the-bitter-crimson-tales/) **

**[TBCT Vampire Overview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088246) **

As ebony and ivory keys were caressed by wispy fingers, a solemn melody moaned from the piano. The melody drifted upward filling the spacious manor that was so hollow of life one would expect ghosts to stir in the halls. The melody touched and caressed the senses pulling at the stopped hearts of the two beings as dark memories played at the recesses of their minds. One sibling seemed to revel in the melancholy while the other drowned in it. All the way to the top of the grand manor, the dreadful pitch found its target who was sitting, no, hiding in his workshop.

Reclined in the wooden chair, Thomas sat in his room of trinkets trying to figure out what to tinker with. His long fair fingers were laced together across his middle while his elbows hung on the arms of the chair. He was slumped so far down in the chair that an inch more and he would be on the floor, but his planted and splayed feet kept him situated.

There was a plethora of things Thomas could tinker with in the shop but the real reason he was there was for want of space. Mavis was in the sitting room making the piano bleed with memories as she stroked the lullaby from it. The attic was still, the way he liked it and he hoped it would stay that way for a bit more wanting her to play the piano all night, which she had been inclined to do on several occasions.

Earlier, when the sun and moon traded spaces, Thomas awoke with Mavis’ form draped across him and choking on her hair. Connected to the night, they both awoke on cue. As always, she wanted to start the day with a bang. The siblings had sex in bed, then again in the tub.

Thomas pondered what the enigmatic Ms. Jacqueline said the other day. Jouet, a toy, because he was young and wanted to copulate with everything. He had to admit that his and Mavis’ sex drive had increased to a monumental rate since receiving their undead gift. This was not an issue, but he wished he could share his body with someone other than his sister. Sex with Mavis was becoming ritualistic, a bore of a religion observed out of habit. During times when blood was involved, he enjoyed sex with Mavis, but he was certain it was due to the excitement of the life force cursing through his undead being.

Jouet. Toy. Words spoken with elegance by brown American accented lips. Pushing himself up in his chair, Thomas’ mood lifted as well as something else. He could not masturbate in the house. Mavis would hear and smell it. This life was torture. The memory of being human was an appealing one.

Jouet. Toy. Thomas and Mavis were both jouets by Jacqueline’s definition, but while he wanted to have sex with others, Mavis’ possession of him increased.

Since Mavis was still stroking the keys below, Thomas allowed himself thoughts of the black beauty. He recalled the warmth of Jacqueline’s smooth hand when he helped her to stand and how delicate it was in his much larger one. Jacqueline was a haunting beauty no doubt capable of laying down mischief. A magnitude of questions bombarded his mind that he wanted to ask but was too wary to be near Jacqueline to do so.

The vampire that gifted the life of eternal death to Thomas and Mavis did not teach them much about their new life and when he proved to be more unbearable than her, she decided he had to go and whatever she decided always came to pass.

Thomas would keep the secret of Jacqueline to himself not wanting Mavis to do anything rash as she was prone to. Though he avoided the office on Arlong Street for three days, his intrigue of the woman remained. Then there was Darren. His need of seeing the boy was twofold. One being he desired to see the boy’s tantalizing form and the other being he wanted to make sure he was getting enough money for food.

Grasping a one-foot block of wood from a bin under his worktable, Thomas examined it. Since he could not have who he wanted, he would create them. As a child he began his tinkering and would make dolls to keep Mavis happy. He never pursued his hobby further than that as it was a means of escape.

The question was, which to carve first? The alluring African queen in western garb or the enticing street boy in tattered rags? Thomas rotated the wood in his hands as he contemplated. His eyes scanned the workroom chockablock with doodads and knickknacks. There were several carved dolls painted fair, both boys and girls, but none of the dark complected variety. Perhaps it was time for a change. Ms. Jacqueline it would be.

Dipping his hand into the battered tea can, Thomas plucked a charcoal pencil free and began to sketch an outline on the wood. Having a photogenic memory, he summoned the image of Jacqueline into his mind. An outline formed on the wood of the perched hat with its garth on top, the pinned hair, the rounded chin…

The silence of the piano keys below was sudden. Thomas’ mind emptied out as he listened to Mavis’ booted feet clanking in the kitchen. It was time for a meal. She would be distracted as she got the stove going and heated the blood giving him more time to continue his work.

As Thomas moved the pencil along the wood, Jacqueline’s outline began to materialize. She was elegant and fine in her flowing skirt and puffed shouldered jacket. He hoped he could do her beauty justice with his craft.

Finishing the outline, Thomas reached for his carving knife then halted as he heard Mavis humming and clanking on the stairs. Tossing the block of wood into the bin where he had retrieved it, he tossed a work cloth over it, sat back in his chair, and cleared his mind as Mavis reached the attic. Facing the entrance, he greeted his sister with a row of teeth that threaten to break his face as the smile was forced with tremendous exaggeration.

“Hello, Mavis,” Thomas sung out as the crimson array flowed into the workroom.

“Hello, Thomas. It’s mealtime,” Mavis announced as she carried a glass tray with two tin cups of warm blood over to him.

“Mmmm, I was getting hungry,” he mentioned as he sat back and allowed her to settle the tray in front of him.

“Of course, you were.” She smiled and trailed a hand down the side of his face to grasp his chin giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. Settling a cup in front of him, she dictated, “Drink your meal.”

Doing as told like a child receiving its first training on how to feed itself, Thomas grasped the cup of blood, lifted it to his lips, and commenced to drinking the life force. He recalled waking up to gorging on blood seeping from their creator’s wrist and how he retched at the taste. Now, there was not a more divine meal in the world than blood. The elixir filled him with power and vitality.

Taking the remaining cup, Mavis perched her petite form on Thomas’ knee and sipped on it with her dark brown eyes gazing at him. Lifting his free hand, he moved it around her hip and tugged her close, his hand resting on her red silk draped lap.

Even before they were creatures of the night, Mavis always wore red. Thomas used to think it was an exceptional color on her, making her skin radiate with life. Now her red dresses were infernal sheaths of emptiness. The dress she donned that day had a lacy high neck and long sleeves that were puffed at the top and tapered to the wrists. As she was often in the mood for sex, she wore her glossy jet hair down with it trailing in curls to hang below her shoulders.

Mavis’ eyes searched Thomas’ face sensing something was off with him. She probed his mind but all she saw was her perched on his lap. After taking her fill of blood, she returned her cup to the glass tray.

“Where are your thoughts, Thomas?” Mavis asked as she trailed a finger along his cheekbone.

“With you as always,” Thomas replied with ease as he smiled and placed the hand holding his cup on the arm of the chair.

Tucking her head under Thomas’ chin, Mavis reminisced, “I miss hearing the beat of your heart, my love.”

Thomas wanted to say, I miss the heat of your vagina, but he thwarted the notion away.

“I miss yours as well,” Thomas replied as he buried his face in her mane pressing a kiss into the curls.

“This life is such a burden, I couldn’t ever carry on without you,” Mavis continued to lament.

“Well, it’s best not to think of what can’t be changed.” He attempted to stir her from the gloomy talk which always turned into a scornful speech.

“It’s hard not to,” she groused as she pushed away from his chest becoming stone.

Thomas flicked his eyes to Mavis, ready for her to start shaming.

“You brought that monster here and he in turn took our souls away.” Retrieving her cup, Mavis took a drink of her meal then returned the cup to its place.

“It’s not as if I knew he was a vampire, Mavis,” Thomas protested. “Can we at least try to move pass this? It’s been two years.”

“This isn’t something you just move pass, Thomas.” She shook her head. “Your shortcomings didn’t only affect you, but it affected me as well. If you weren’t thinking with your cock you would have made a better choice.”

Thomas stared at the floor and remained silent. Over the years, he learned it was best to keep quiet during Mavis’ antagonistic moods. She was a whirlwind that he did not want to get caught in. So, he continued to drink his meal as she continued to berate. Her words flowed like water into one ear and out the other, it all being so habitual.

“What are you working on, Thomas?” Mavis questioned. “You’re sitting up here alone. It would have pleased me if you came down and listened to me play.”

Thomas was slow to respond as he realized Mavis had ceased her ranting.

Flicking his eyes back to Mavis, Thomas replied, “I was just resting really. Too lazy to go down the stairs.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Mavis shook her head. “It’s not as if we tire that easily anymore.”

“I will make sure to be in the sitting room every time you grace the keys from here on out, my love,” he promised.

“Good.” She smiled as she returned her head to his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “The next time you go into town, I shall need some more rose water.”

Thomas pulled a face above her head. He loathed rose water but never told her. She had been wearing it since their adolescent years and then he liked it, but now, with their heighten senses, it was overpowering making him feel like he was smothering in a bed of roses.

“You know,” Thomas began as he set his cup on the worktable, “you always stay home. You could come into town with me sometime. It would be good for you.” Placing a sweet smile on his face, he tucked his index finger under Mavis’ chin and lifted her head to face him. He was going to place a kiss on her lips, but she tugged away.

Mavis’ face darkened as she sneered and laid into him again. “Is that what you want?” She snapped.

“Why…yes. Yes it…” he was cut short.

“You want me to wander around town with you while all those whores leer at you?”

Thomas pressed his lips together.

“Their minds as vast and open as the sea showing me what they would love to do with you,” Mavis continued to grind.

“I was merely suggesting you get out of the house, Mavis,” Thomas offered. “You know, you don’t have to pry into other people’s thoughts…”

“Pry?” Her dark eyes shot through him. “Is that what I do? I pry?”

“No, Mavis, I’m just suggesting…”

“I’m sick of your suggestions!” She rejected as she stood.

Snatching Thomas’ cup of unfinished blood from the worktable, Mavis slammed it onto the glass tray along with hers. Seizing the tray, she started toward the door.

“Lucky the last whore bled five liters, but soon we’ll need another barrel. Make it a red head this time. You think you can manage that?” Mavis halted at the door waiting for Thomas’ response.

“I am certain I can, my dear,” Thomas responded.

“Good.”

Leaving the room with hard pointed steps, Mavis left a disgruntled air behind. Thomas sat for a moment trying to make sense of the situation wondering what he had said to set her off. Giving up, he tugged the block of wood from the bin and set to carving a miniature African queen.

\----

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	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacqueline hunts a meal, chit chats with Darren, and breaks into Thomas' office. What a naughty girl.
> 
> Intro:  
>  The slums in the East End of London reeked with depression, poverty, anger, filth, and lechery. Prowling on a hunt, Jacqueline invaded the minds of all who drew near. Presenting herself as an easy target, she was dressed in her finest clothes and allowed her reticule to dangle from her wrist without care. There was a certain type of prey she was searching for, male, angry, racist, and dangerous. By choosing such a prey, she was performing a service to humanity by ridding it of scum.
> 
> Before arriving in the East End, four taxis passed Jacqueline in the West End not desiring to service a black woman. The fifth taxi carried her to the edge of the East End, not daring to go farther, and of course charged her a discriminatory fee higher than that of a white passenger. Used to discrimination, Jacqueline did not start at the inequality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: teenager, murder, no sex, blood drinking
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Jacqueline Pitch  
> Darren Wiggins
> 
> Edited: 7/20/20

**[Story Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/impala67cnk80q3/the-bitter-crimson-tales/) **

**[TBCT Vampire Overview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088246) **

The slums in the East End of London reeked with depression, poverty, anger, filth, and lechery. Prowling on a hunt, Jacqueline invaded the minds of all who drew near. Presenting herself as an easy target, she was dressed in her finest clothes and allowed her reticule to dangle from her wrist without care. There was a certain type of prey she was searching for, male, angry, racist, and dangerous. By choosing such a prey, she was performing a service to humanity by ridding it of scum.

Before arriving in the East End, four taxis passed Jacqueline in the West End not desiring to service a black woman. The fifth taxi carried her to the edge of the East End, not daring to go farther, and of course charged her a discriminatory fee higher than that of a white passenger. Used to discrimination, Jacqueline did not start at the inequality.

A herd of street urchins rustled pass Jacqueline and she gripped her reticule tight as the tricky devils were skilled at sleight of hand. The trap was not for them as it was forbidden by the vampire council to harm children. This would seem like an act of compassion, but it was a law with a dark purpose. Children would grow into adults and breed more humans. Humans were nothing more than cattle to a vampire and sustaining human life ensured the survival of the species.

A few people gave Jacqueline odd glances wondering what a black woman was doing dressed so smart in the area, others were too concerned with their own needs of survival to even notice her.

Leaving the main street, Jacqueline turned down a road where the light of a pub shined yellow onto the street. Drunks brayed inside the pub with some staggering out and relieving themselves in the street, prostitutes conducted business with customers on the side of buildings, and men squabbled over winnings and losses of a card game.

Moving along pass the pub, Jacqueline listened to the minds around her and there in the sea of thoughts a dark voice could be heard. Such racist and depraved thoughts littered the man’s mind. He wanted to rape then kill her, and steal her belongings, including clothes. She could see the image of herself in his mind as he was trailing her.

Continuing to play the part of prey, Jacqueline reached a deserted alley away from the calamity of the pub. Strolling down the dark path that was without an exit, she moved into the darkness letting it envelop her as she released her form allowing it to dissolve as she became one with the shadows.

The prey reached the alley. Halting at the entrance, he searched for Jacqueline but all he saw was the blackness. Removing a knife from his being, he crept farther into the alley, his dark depraved mind seeking her out. Deeper into the alley away from the street, the miscreant entered the shadows with the light of the cosmos and nearby streetlamps disappearing. Alarmed, he spun in a circle brandishing his blade. Block a human’s sight and they would become frantic.

Deciding to play with her meal, Jacqueline gathered her form but remained hidden by the shadows she cast. Kicking a can toward the man, she grinned as he started with fright and stumbled over a heap of debris but remained standing. Creeping behind him, she swiped her elongated nails across the back of his exposed neck getting a rewarding shriek mirroring a woman’s as he grabbed at the bleeding wound.

Ready to dine, Jacqueline slammed the heel of her booted foot into the back of the man’s knee making him fall to the ground. Grabbing him by the hair, she drove his head into the side of a brick wall getting a rewarding crack. Snatching the blade from his hand, she sliced it across his throat and as the blood gushed from the wound, she pressed her mouth to it and drank his life down. Unable to scream, the man issued gurgling sounds as his life slipped away.

Listening to the countdown of the man’s life as his heartbeat slowed, Jacqueline ended her meal with the last beat and let his corpse fall to the ground among the other trash that littered the alley. Removing a handkerchief from her reticule, she cleaned her lips of blood. Always practicing dining etiquette, she was a clean eater and always managed to keep blood off her clothing.

One last act needed to be done before Jacqueline could leave the scene. Rustling through the dead man’s pockets, she found his wallet, emptied it of the coins and notes, stuffed them into her reticule, and discarded the wallet onto the ground. Lavish living in the West End and fine clothes did not come free.

Letting her form dissolve into shadows, Jacqueline moved among the dark alleys toward the edge of the slums. There was no need for her to attract more attention, so this mode of travel was optimal. Reaching the outskirts of the East End, she gathered her form and stepped out the shadows. Though she managed to get a taxi on the first try, which was rare, she was still overcharged.

Exiting the taxi when it stopped on Arlong Street in front of the mansion block, Jacqueline started toward the gates to the apartments but halted. She had not seen Thomas in three days. Each night, she could feel his office was empty. She wanted to thank him for having the shutters installed on her windows as well as pay her rent. She could have put the payment in his mailbox, but she wanted to give it to him in person.

“Can you spare some coin, madam?”

Jacqueline adverted her eyes from the office to the huddled form on the soap boxes. She smiled at the boy and drew near him.

“As it were, I do have some coin on my person.” Jacqueline extracted some coins from her reticule and dumped them into Darren’s hat.

“Thank you,” Darren expressed his gratitude.

“May I?” Jacqueline asked indicating the other soap box.

Nodding his head to Jacqueline, Darren removed the hat from the soap box, placed his coins in his pocket, and settled the hat on his head.

Settling on the soap box next to the boy, Jacqueline examined him. Newspaper and the tip of his toe poked out the torn seams of his shoes, the pants rose high at the ankles and were frayed along the edges, and the gloves had worn thin exposing his fingers. Winter was coming and she was sure it would be a rough one for the boy.

“What is your name?” Jacqueline inquired.

Giving Jacqueline his attention, Darren replied, “Darren.”

“I’m Jacqueline,” she offered her name. “I’m surprised the night watchman hasn’t run you off.”

“Well, when they come, I usually toss my hat on and act like I’m reading the paper.” He gave a sly smile and nodded to the newspaper propped beside the soap box.

Jacqueline gave a soft laugh at the boy’s cleverness.

“Mr. Sharpe is rather nice to let you sit here in front of his office,” Jacqueline remarked.

“Yes, he is,” Darren agreed and nodded. “He’s awfully generous as well. Once he gave me twenty pounds.”

“Well,” she remarked with feigned astonishment as she knew why Thomas was so generous toward the boy. “That is awfully generous of him. Do you know much about him?”

“I only know that he owns a lot of property on this end of London,” he replied, “and he only works at night.”

“Interesting.”

“He usually comes here every few days, but I haven’t seen him lately.”

“Is he married?” She pried.

The boy thought for a moment then shrugged and responded, “I don’t know. I never asked.”

She nodded her head and then continued with her questioning, “How old are you, Darren?”

“Sixteen,” he replied.

“Youngster, aren’t you?”

Darren offered a polite smile but did not respond.

“Haven’t been able to get your hair cut?” Jacqueline continued her questioning as she noted the boy’s long hair.

“Well…” Darren started as he sat back giving another smile that twinkled to his eyes with mischief. “I could cut it, but…lots of people think I’m a girl and they tend to be more generous.”

Jacqueline was tickled by the boy’s response and giggled with her form quivering.

“Ms. Jacqueline,” Darren began, “why are you so curious?”

“Why not?” Jacqueline asked.

He shrugged, “Not many people give me much attention.”

“I know. They tend not to see you. The same is with me. My skin tone usually renders me invisible.”

“I see you nice and clear,” he offered as comfort.

She smiled with appreciation. “You are a nice young man.”

Darren beamed then pulled a battered old pocket watch from his pocket and read its face.

“Well, I should be going, Ms. Jacqueline,” Darren informed as he stood and tucked the watch away.

“You’re going all the way to the East End?” Jacqueline queried.

“Yes, Ms. Jacqueline,” he replied. “I’ll get a bus along the way. The farther I walk, the less I have to pay.”

Jacqueline gave him a sweet smile and sent him off with, “Please be careful, young man.”

“Always, Ms. Jacqueline,” he replied and tipped his head to her.

Jacqueline watched Darren’s long slender frame as he strolled down the street. He was a beautiful and sweet boy unhindered by his life’s position. So many in his situation were scornful and miserable searching for someone to blame. Often, the ones that were blamed were those of other complexions.

Standing, Jacqueline walked through the gate and started down the path toward home but halted. She could get into Thomas’ office without detection. All she needed was a crack in a window or door. Moving to the backdoor, she examined it. Seeing the space along the bottom she opened herself to the surroundings searching for anyone who might be in the vicinity. Sensing no one was around, she blended with the night releasing her body into a form of shadows. Slipping under the door, she crept along the floor to the front of the office. Casting a shadow over the windows, she blocked them out as she gathered her form.

Settling behind Thomas’ desk, Jacqueline breathed in his scent. Vampires could have an underlying scent of mold, earth, or decay. His scent was that of earth, fresh and clean mingling with his masculine essence. The other that was upon him, the female, scented of a faint mold and stifling rose water. Her feminine presence was annoying.

Commencing what she was there to do, Jacqueline searched Thomas’ desk drawer finding a stationary set and a pen. Placing the tip of the pen on the sheet of paper she scribbled out a letter.

_Dear Mr. Sharpe,_

_Thank you in kind for the installation of the shutters on my windows. I had to sleep in the squalor of your basement while they were installed but c’est la mort. I have added my rent in the accorded amount and wish for more of your assistance. My belongings will arrive from the London docks next Monday and I would appreciate it if you have someone at my residence to receive them. I would be ever so in your debt._

_Sincerely,_

_Jacqueline Pitch_

_P.S. Come to me if you wish to know more about yourself._

Placing a kiss on the letter, Jacqueline smirked knowing Thomas would be able to smell her saliva. Folding the letter, she tucked it into the envelop along with the rent payment. Placing the envelop on the keys of the typewriter, she stood and made her exit.

Under the backdoor, Jacqueline slipped with her body returning to solid and the shadows dissolving. Strolling across the courtyard she thrilled at the thought of Thomas’ reaction when he entered his office heavy with her scent. The scent of her saliva was a telling sign that she kissed the letter and her meaning would be apparent.

Reaching her apartment, Jacqueline climbed in bed without removing her clothes. She rested with a full belly falling into slumber when the sun graced the horizon.

\----

Translations:

c'est la mort: French. it's death

\----

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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to his office on Arlong Street, Thomas is bombarded by Jacqueline's lusty scent in his office. Going to confront her at her apartment, he stays to receive some much-needed information.
> 
> Intro:  
>  After tossing Darren a few pounds and muttering a gruff greeting without addressing him, Thomas hurried into his office. Darren frowned at the notes in his hat and began to wonder if he had done something wrong. The two never talked at lengths but tonight it seemed Thomas wanted to be far away from Darren. The boy began to feel that his presence was unwanted. Placing his earnings in his pocket, Darren placed his hat on his head and stood. Observing Thomas through the office window, Darren read the furious expression on his face and though it was not directed at him, he decided to make his way home for the night.
> 
> Inside, Thomas did not notice Darren’s departure as a smoky, nutty, and earthy scent enveloped him. Beneath the scent lingered the sweetness of a woman. The scent was unmistakable and alluring yet disturbing to Thomas. There was no mistake in who the scent belonged to as Thomas had smelled it on the ebony seductress when they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: teenager, no sex
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Darren Wiggins  
> Jacqueline Pitch
> 
> Edited: 7/26/20

**[Story Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/impala67cnk80q3/the-bitter-crimson-tales/) **

**[TBCT Vampire Overview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088246) **

After tossing Darren a few pounds and muttering a gruff greeting without addressing him, Thomas hurried into his office. Darren frowned at the notes in his hat and began to wonder if he had done something wrong. The two never talked at lengths but tonight it seemed Thomas wanted to be far away from Darren. The boy began to feel that his presence was unwanted. Placing his earnings in his pocket, Darren placed his hat on his head and stood. Observing Thomas through the office window, Darren read the furious expression on his face and though it was not directed at him, he decided to make his way home for the night.

Inside, Thomas did not notice Darren’s departure as a smoky, nutty, and earthy scent enveloped him. Beneath the scent lingered the sweetness of a woman. The scent was unmistakable and alluring yet disturbing to Thomas. There was no mistake in who the scent belonged to as Thomas had smelled it on the ebony seductress when they met.

Thomas’ mood was already foul as he debated rather to come to Arlong Street that day. His slights toward Darren were not intentional rather he believed that if he limited his interactions with the boy, his mind and body would be at peace. However, entering the office, Thomas became disturbed. Arousal, perplexity, frustration, and exasperation all bombarded Thomas’ senses.

As his staff did not work after hours unless ordered to, Thomas knew that none had permitted Jacqueline to enter. Therefore, the logical explanation was that the woman broke into the office. The thought that she had invaded his privacy incensed him as it was a violation of unwritten mutual respect.

Facing the front door, Thomas tested the doorknob. He had unlocked it to enter and it was not loose. Perhaps Jacqueline did not use the front door. He started toward the backdoor but halted seeing the envelop perched on the typewriter keys. Stepping behind his desk, he plucked the envelop from where it lay.

Jacqueline’s scent covered the envelop and lifting it to his nose, Thomas closed his eyes letting her scent seduce him. Pulling the envelop away, he tore it open and unfolded the letter. A smell of saliva wafted from the paper mingling with the tempting aroma. Pressing his nose to the spot where the scent of saliva radiated, he knew her lips were once there. Pulling away from the letter, his anger swarmed back. He could not allow himself to give in to her wiles. Giving in to her would cause trouble between him and Mavis.

Reading the letter, Thomas stared at the postscript. Why was Jacqueline doing this? Was there something she wanted from him? Perhaps he was overacting, and she did not have an ulterior intent.

As he contemplated what to do, Thomas lifted his eyes to the window and saw Darren was gone. Often the boy made his way home at a later hour. Thomas hoped his disposition did not scare the boy off.

Pushing Darren from his mind, Thomas decided to concentrate on the problem at hand. After stuffing the envelop with Jacqueline’s payment into his desk drawer along with the letter, Thomas stormed out the backdoor of the office.

As he stalked across the cool courtyard, Thomas wondered what his motive was. Why was he going to Jacqueline’s apartment? Was he going to confront her for breaking in his office or was there something else he wanted to confront? Something stirred inside him with it clenching his stomach. There was a need rising and she could satisfy it. What that need was and how it needed to be satisfied, he was not certain, but he knew she had the answer.

Entering the mansion block, Thomas boarded the elevator and closed the gate. As the elevator lifted, he contemplated riding it back down once it reached the third floor. There was plenty of time to retreat but Jacqueline would know he was drawing near.

Remaining in the elevator once it stopped, Thomas contemplated what to do. Should he go to Jacqueline or return to his office? Back and forth the options juggled through his mind. He told himself that he was going to confront her about invading his privacy and that was it. Other thoughts of what he could do were pushed to the recesses of his mind.

A weight settled on Thomas as he stepped off the elevator and drew near apartment 371. He knew he should turn back and go home, but he fought against the weight, against his conscience. All the way down the hall, he fought with himself until he was standing outside the door.

The brass numbers seemed to beam bright at Thomas under the gas lamps in the hall. They were like a beacon calling to him, daring him to knock on the door and begging him to step in. What would he find inside the apartment? All the answers to the monster he had become? Acceptance? Friendship? Comfort? He dared not think of love.

Lifting his hand, Thomas rapped it against the door once and it slipped open. Frowning, he eased into the apartment with caution.

Thomas did not detect any other scents in the air but Jacqueline’s. He could see the living area was still empty of furniture and nothing was out of place. There was not a scent of blood or any other detection of foul play to be had.

“Ms. Pitch?” Thomas called out as he closed the door behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Well,” Jacqueline’s sugared smooth voice drifted from the bedroom, “I most certainly hope I am, Mr. Sharpe.”

“I received your letter and I must tell you how vexed I am at your form of delivery,” he addressed.

“Come here, Thomas,” she bid him.

Taken aback, he replied in a sharp tone, “Ms. Pitch, I shall not enter a woman’s bedroom if I am not wedded to her. It would be inappropriate.”

An amused sound jingled from the room as Jacqueline laughed with mockery dancing in it.

“Light the lamps for me, please, Mr. Sharpe. I am much too short to reach them,” Jacqueline requested.

“As you wish,” Thomas agreed.

Retrieving the matches from the fireplace, Thomas moved around the room lighting the gas lamps setting the room aglow with a warm yellow light. After lighting the last lamp, he turned and saw Jacqueline standing at the bedroom door, her dark eyes heavy with lust and longing as she watched him. There was no doubt she had been standing there watching him move around the room with his long, strong frame stretching as he performed the task.

As Jacqueline drifted farther into the room, Thomas’ lips slipped apart as he watched her. Her hair was down, long, and straight dusting over her shoulders. Women did not wear their hair down unless they were preparing for bed. Even picturing a woman with her hair down would invite wanton thoughts. Forcing his eyes lower, he admired her lacy long sleeve white top that was dotted with pearls, had puffed sleeves to the elbows, and a ruffled yoke. Her bottom was wrapped in a jade blue silk skirt with a bow and a stream of ruffles down the back.

“Hello, Mr. Sharpe.” Jacqueline’s lips formed a pleasant smile.

Thomas parted his lips to speak but as with the day they met, he found himself speechless. His eyes locked with hers, a vortex of chocolate lust, hypnotic and enchanting, and very disturbing. Frowning, he dropped his head.

A sensational smirk curled across Jacqueline’s lips as she observed how uncomfortable Thomas was. He was not the first man she had made that way.

Taking a few steps toward Thomas, Jacqueline addressed him, “Mr. Sharpe, you were going to tell me how vexed you are.”

“Yes…” Thomas trailed then blurted, “Ms. Pitch, it appears you are preparing for bed. I shall return another day.” He started for the door.

“Nonsense,” she replied. “You know we are controlled by the moon and sun. Come talk to me. You came here for something.”

Thomas hesitated as he moved his eyes between the door and Jacqueline. Ceding to her request, he decided to stay.

“Very well,” Thomas began. “It is very criminal of you to enter my office without permission.”

“Hmmm…” Jacqueline mused. “I didn’t break into your office. I left the letter in your mailbox. Your day manager must have taken it in.”

For a moment, Thomas contemplated Jacqueline’s response as being an explanation but then he was reminded of her scent in his office.

“Ms. Pitch, do you think I am a fool?” Thomas demanded. “Your scent is all over my office.”

“And did you like my scent?” Jacqueline asked.

“What…” He frowned.

She laughed. “Thomas have a seat, please.”

After scanning the room, he returned his eyes to her and stated, “You do not have any furniture.”

“The floor,” she replied.

Jacqueline prepared to sit on the floor as she took her skirt in her hand and began to lower her form. Extending a hand, Thomas offered support as she descended. Taking his hand, she lowered to her knees. Lifting her eyes, she beheld his crotch and eyed the endowed bulge in his pants.

“Well, Mr. Sharpe…” Jacqueline spoke in a lusty tone.

Lowering his gaze, Thomas frowned at Jacqueline’s brazen admiration of his concealed manhood. Even limp his bulge was impressive.

“Ms. Pitch, mind you!” Thomas exclaimed.

Jacqueline laughed and released Thomas’ hand as she reclined on the side of her hip.

“For a jouet you really are chastised, Mr. Sharpe,” Jacqueline noted. “Whoever she is, she must have a strong hold over you. I’m sure she knows I’m in town.”

“How so?” Thomas asked as he settled on the floor in front of Jacqueline. Removing his outerwear, he placed everything in a neat pile beside him.

“Vampires know when others are in the area,” she replied. “Unless she is not paying attention to her senses.”

“She hasn’t mentioned anything.”

Jacqueline shrugged and examined Thomas’ handsome face. The glow of the lamps accentuated every sharp line and his eyes were bright as they observed her.

“You’re probably lovely in sunlight, I’m sure your eyes are miraculous,” Jacqueline complimented. “It’s been so long since I last saw the sun that I can’t even remember what a sunset or a sunrise looks like.”

“It is hard when you take simple things for granted,” Thomas agreed.

Jacqueline smiled at Thomas with a gentle turn of her lips. She was then given to mischief slipping her bare feet and ankles from under her skirt. As she expected, his eyes moved to her uncovered flesh. His form stiffened and she was sure his most intimate parts were also stiff. The smooth curve of her dark satin skin enticed him. For a woman to bare so much flesh was scandalizing.

“Ms. Pitch,” Thomas spoke in a deep throaty whisper. “You are nude. Please cover yourself accordingly.”

“Hmmm?” Jacqueline pretended not to have exposed herself on purpose. Focusing on her feet and ankles, she gasped and tossed her skirt over them. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Sharpe.”

Now with the distraction covered, Thomas returned his eyes to Jacqueline’s face and saw the twinkle in her eyes.

“You did that purposely,” Thomas accused.

“Oh, I would never.” Jacqueline batted her eyelids and turned away with a tiny smirk on her lips.

“Ms. Pitch, I did not come here to be teased by your wiles. Now you noted in your letter that you could tell me about myself.”

Returning her eyes to Thomas, Jacqueline smiled and sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. Offering her hands to him, she waited for him to take them.

As Thomas stared at Jacqueline’s hands, not trusting their intent, she urged him, “Take them, Mr. Sharpe. I am done with my teasing.”

Slipping his large hands under Jacqueline’s small ones, Thomas closed his long fingers around them and held them in a gentle embrace. A contrast presented itself in the embrace. Her hands were small, dark, and warm, and his were large, fair, and cold.

A smile of delight passed Jacqueline’s lips as she enjoyed Thomas’ smooth supple hands that were strong and secure. There was a reassurance in his embrace, and she could feel she was making way with him, gaining his trust a little at a time.

“Tell me, Mr. Sharpe,” Jacqueline began. “Where is your creator?”

Thomas’ eyes shot to Jacqueline’s face, a deep disquietude flashing in the blue of his eyes. His defenses rose and his hands jerked in hers, but she held firm, her fingers stroking over the back of his telling him things were fine.

“I am not here to judge you, Mr. Sharpe,” Jacqueline assured him.

“He perished,” Thomas informed her.

Jacqueline searched Thomas’ eyes for more information, but all she saw was his nervousness. There was a wall he did not wish for her to peer over and she permitted him the privacy. She was sure that he would tell her more as time passed and he grew to trust her.

“How old was your creator?” Jacqueline continued her questioning as Thomas’ answers would give insight to how he knew so little about himself.

“Thirty-five,” Thomas replied.

Jacqueline gave a slow nod. “He was a larve.”

“A larva?” He asked translating the French to English.

“Yes, a child,” Jacqueline explained. “There are seven stages of a vampire’s evolution. Jouet, an infant, which is you; the larve, a child; pupe, an adolescent; imago, an adult, me; aîné, an elder; supérieur, a senior, and L’ancienne, who rules over us all.”

Thomas listened taking all the information in and digesting it.

“The road of development is a long one,” Jacqueline continued. “If a vampire is smart enough, they will live a long and fruitful life. What did your creator tell you of your abilities, Mr. Sharpe?”

“I was told that I would not die unless my heart was pierced or my head was removed,” Thomas replied.

“Partly true,” she acknowledged. “Besides that, removing the heart, fire, severing the spinal cord, sunlight, removing the brain, and major brain trauma. You want to make sure you are always at home when the sunrises.”

“Yes, he mentioned that.”

“Good.” She gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

“How is it that you are warm? My creator was the same.”

“As you grow and mature, you will find that you will develop certain abilities, much like a human child learns to walk and talk.”

“What else can you do?”

Jacqueline smiled. “I can eat and drink and master shadows. Observe.”

Nodding toward a corner in the room where light had not touched, Jacqueline directed Thomas’ attention. Settling his eyes on the shadow, he watched as it stretched across the floor creeping toward them like an octopus’ tentacle. The shadow stopped a few inches from them then shrunk back to the corner.

Flipping his head to Jacqueline, Thomas’ mouth slipped open as he stammered, “H-h-how did you do that?”

Jacqueline shrugged. “No one knows exactly how we are able to do what we do. It seems to be some sort of magic locked inside of us. I can also change my form into shadows.”

“That’s amazing.”

“That’s how I got into your office.”

A small smile appeared at the corner of Thomas’ lips and Jacqueline’s eyes lit up not expecting it. His flustered clamped self was easing open.

“As you know, I am also telepathic, like you, and we both have the power of enchantment,” Jacqueline continued to inform.

“I actually never had a problem with enchantment,” Thomas replied.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Jacqueline grinned. “With eyes like yours, a voice like silk, and a pleasing face, I bet you never had a problem getting whatever you wanted.”

Thomas smiled but did not speak.

“Though, you clam up around me. Why is that?” Jacqueline asked.

The smile vanished from Thomas’ face and the happiness in his eyes leaked out.

“It’s alright,” Jacqueline’s fingers massaged the back of Thomas’ hands in a soothing manner as if to add reassurance.

Thomas did not have to tell Jacqueline why he restricted himself around her. She knew the signs of control as she had been in the same situation.

“That’s enough for today.” Jacqueline dropped Thomas’ hands and reclined on the side of her hip making sure her feet and ankles stayed tucked beneath her skirt.

Examining his hands as they hung in the air, Thomas began to miss the touch of Jacqueline’s silky skin upon his and her warmth. He was sure the rest of her body was warm, including her most intimate parts. After rubbing his hands together as if to resurrect the feeling of her flesh, he let them settle on his legs.

“There is something else I wish to talk to you about, Mr. Sharpe,” Jacqueline continued.

“Please,” Thomas began as he held up a hand, “just call me Thomas, Ms. Pitch.”

“Oh, but I love calling you Mr. Sharpe.” She grinned. “Call me Jacqueline.”

“As you wish.” He dipped his head in respect. “Please, tell me what else you wish to discuss.”

“It’s the boy, Darren,” she began. “You have feelings for him. Why don’t you bring him in from the cold? He will suffer the winter.”

Thomas was silent.

“You have more than enough money to do so and you have plenty of apartments,” Jacqueline continued.

“It’s not that easy,” Thomas replied after some beats.

“I know what you are afraid of, Mr. Sharpe,” she sympathized, “but don’t you think he is worth it? Perhaps you can have him perform some tasks for you as a trade for shelter, food, and clothing.”

“It is worth contemplating,” he agreed.

“He is beautiful and bright.” She smiled. “He leaves his hair long because people think he’s a girl and give him more money.”

A bright smile flashed across Thomas’ lips and he laughed for the first time in Jacqueline’s presence. The sound was as blissful as humming angels, starting deep within and reverberating throughout. She smiled at him and their eyes locked together. For a moment, everything seemed still around them. Even though they remained seated they seemed to gravitate toward each other.

A thrill passed through Thomas’ chilled veins and surrounded his cold heart as he gazed at Jacqueline, desiring to surround her in his arms and caress his lips against hers.

“It’s alright,” Jacqueline broke the silence and their connection as she pushed to her feet. “Think about the boy, Mr. Sharpe, please.”

“I shall,” Thomas agreed as he rose to his feet.

“Now,” Jacqueline began with a grin, “if you have nowhere to rush off to, would you mind escorting me to a furniture store, if there is one still open at this hour?”

Fishing his golden pocket watch out his waistcoat, Thomas read it and put it back.

“If we hurry, we can make it,” Thomas informed as he pulled on his outerwear.

“Alright.” Jacqueline nodded her head, took her skirt in her hands, and darted to the bedroom.

After pinning her hair up, slipping on a pair of stockings and boots, then tossing on her outerwear, Jacqueline exited the apartment with a handsome gentleman as her escort.

There was a warmth growing between the two and Jacqueline was determined not to let the fire burn out.

\----

Translations:

pupe: French. pupa.

aîné: French. elder.

supérieur: French. superior.

l'ancienne: French. the ancient.

\----

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	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needing food, Thomas goes on a hunt and brings back an unfortunate. Always one to play with her food, Mavis lays in some horrors. Thrilled with the lust of the meal, the brother-sister duo revel in carnal desires.
> 
> Intro:  
>  The carriage rocked along the road as Wainsworth drove the horses through the East End. Thomas sat in the carriage scanning the sea of unfortunates for a victim. As not to draw the wrong type of attention, Thomas always took the carriage to the East End instead of the motorcar, which was a symbol of wealth. Thomas also wore clothing that had been well made but were a few years old and worn around the edges. The illusion was that Thomas had enough money to attract a victim but not too much that a miscreant would attempt to assault him.
> 
> Opening his mind and eyes to all who wandered the slums at that late hour of night, Thomas searched for the impossible. A red-haired female. Red hair was a rare trait and it would be as hard as searching for a needle in a haystack. He could not go home without one as that would be more horrible than staying outside waiting for the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Contains graphic heterosexual sex.  
> Contains graphic mutilation.  
> Contains graphic violence.  
> Contains graphic torture.  
> Contains graphic incestuous sex.  
> Contains incestuous relationships.
> 
> Tags: emotional/psychological abuse, obsession, love, jealousy, erotica, explicit sexual content, devotion, blood drinking, orgasm, trauma, injury, prostitution, licking, nipple licking, kissing, blow job, cunnilingus, anilingus, underwear kink, women's underwear, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, mutilation, torture, nipple torture, tit torture, sadism, violence
> 
> Original Character:  
> Mavis Sharpe  
> Arlene
> 
> Edited: 7/27/20

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**[TBCT Vampire Overview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088246) **

The carriage rocked along the road as Wainsworth drove the horses through the East End. Thomas sat in the carriage scanning the sea of unfortunates for a victim. As not to draw the wrong type of attention, Thomas always took the carriage to the East End instead of the motorcar, which was a symbol of wealth. Thomas also wore clothing that had been well made but were a few years old and worn around the edges. The illusion was that Thomas had enough money to attract a victim but not too much that a miscreant would attempt to assault him.

Opening his mind and eyes to all who wandered the slums at that late hour of night, Thomas searched for the impossible. A red-haired female. Red hair was a rare trait and it would be as hard as searching for a needle in a haystack. He could not go home without one as that would be more horrible than staying outside waiting for the sun.

Thomas and Mavis had finished off the last liter of Edith’s blood when they awoke for the night. He did not have any female tenants with red hair and who were alone. Therefore, he ventured out on a hunt. An easy victim was needed fast and the East End was in supply of those. No one would care to investigate the missing of a prostitute or those stricken by poverty.

The hunting and killing was not what Thomas had an issue with, but it was Mavis’ games that she played with the victims. She always wanted women, but not for sexual purposes.

Years ago, when Thomas and Mavis were children, her hatred of females began. He was eight and she was ten. Their tutor brought her young daughter to play with them and the girl placed an innocent peck upon his cheek. Mavis’ rage blazed and she spun into a violent fit. After the attack, the girl was left with a shattered eye socket and a sliver of bone pierced her eye leaving her blind. Their mother beat Mavis fracturing her arm and left her small body bruised because their father had to pay for the damages as well as hire a new tutor.

Mavis’ anger grew into an obsession as she and Thomas aged. As an adult, she used to go to town with him and if a woman would as much as smile at him, she would rage once they got home accusing him of being unfaithful to their incestuous love. After they were turned into vampires, she stopped going to town. She claimed she was unable to tune out all the female voices, but he believed she did not want to.

Pushing thoughts of the past and Mavis from his mind, Thomas concentrated on the task at hand, his eyes searching for a red head in the night. She wanted a red head because she had never had one. All their other victims had been blonds and brunettes. He could not return home without a victim as they needed to eat, and it would be a painful night without substance. They had never gone without eating at least twice a day with some days reaching four times. Returning home without food was not an option.

Drawing near a cluster of small rooms that were one loose foundation away from being shanties, Thomas’ mind flooded with salacious thoughts and images of the inhabitants. The area was plentiful in prostitution. Banging a hand on the wall of the carriage, he signaled for Wainsworth to stop. After the carriage halted on the side of the street, Thomas exited closing the door behind him.

Thomas hated leaving Wainsworth alone in the villainous area always worried that someone would attack the old man. To monitor his safety, Thomas kept his mind’s ear trained on his faithful servant’s thoughts.

Strolling down the dark lane, Thomas listened to the calls of passion echoing from the rooms and corners. Iniquitous women strove for his attention as he passed them along his way, but none were red heads.

Reaching the end of the lane, Thomas started to round the corner to the next one when a door opened and out strolled a beefy john doing up his pants. Behind the john, a dishabille harlot waited in the doorway dressed in a ratty gown. The man passed some coins to her and departed. As she stood in the doorway counting her earnings, the light of her room bathed her catching in the river of fire that streamed from her scalp.

“Finally,” Thomas muttered under his breath as he approached the red-haired fallen woman. Reaching earshot, he called to her, “I say, lady, are you working?”

Lifting her eyes from her coins, she regarded Thomas and smiled a toothless smile with her two front teeth missing.

“Always, darling,” the woman replied as she examined Thomas from head to toe in estimation. “Let me freshen up and I’ll be right with you.”

“I was actually wondering if you would accompany me to my home,” Thomas informed with a most charming smile on his face and a lusty gleam in his eyes. “I assure you that I will pay you handsomely.”

The woman searched Thomas’ face thinking him handsome. He won the woman over with ease as was expected. He never failed in garnering female attention and now with the potent charisma of vampirism, it was like having a puppy eating out his hands.

“Where you live at, darling?” The harlot asked.

“In the countryside,” Thomas replied as he removed his wallet, extracted a single pound note, and proffered it to the woman. “Take this in advance. Only more will follow.”

The woman’s eyes lit up as she accepted the note and Thomas slipped his wallet back into his pocket.

“What type of fun you looking to have?” The woman questioned further.

“I’m looking for you to entertain me and my wife,” he replied. “I have a carriage waiting to take us to my residence.”

“Well,” the woman smiled. “A handsome payment indeed will be needed. Let me clean my cunt unless you like plowing around in another man’s mess.”

“I’ll wait here,” he smiled.

The woman winked at him saying, “I’m Arlene. I’ll be just a moment.”

Thomas nodded his head not offering his name and Arlene did not ask. Disappearing into her room, she closed the door behind her. A short amount of time passed before she reappeared. He was sure she did not clean herself well and the stench of the man’s emission lingering on her told him as much. The dress and coat she wore appeared as dirty as she smelled.

Forcing a smile, Thomas instructed with a gentleman flair, “Please follow me.”

After allowing the woman to move close to him, Thomas led the way back to the carriage where Wainsworth was waiting unharmed. Opening the door, Thomas helped Arlene into the carriage and entered behind her. Wainsworth lifted the reins and onward they rode through the night with a fly ensnared in webbing.

The ride home was lengthy or seemed so with Thomas trying to maintain a polite air as Arlene touched him, but he wanted to be as far away from the grimy strumpet as could be. He noticed a lesion on her upper lip and believed it to be from either herpes or syphilis. Though he was no longer susceptible to human diseases, his flesh still crawled at the thought of them. She would be made to bathe and wash her hair once they reached the manor, but the thought of disease still disgusted him.

Reaching the manor, Wainsworth settled the carriage in front of the door and Thomas almost leapt from his seat. After helping Arlene down from the carriage, he escorted her to the house. He read the astonishment on her face and in her eyes and a smirk played on his lips.

“Impressed?” Thomas asked.

“Yes…” Arlene trailed as she gazed at the two upper floors dotted with numerous windows with her mouth gaped.

“Come along,” he bid her as he led the way inside the manor.

“You’re a rich man.” She gasped at the luxurious furnishings and décor.

“Well, yes.” He smiled as he removed his outerwear and hung them on the coatrack. “As I said, you will be paid handsomely for your services tonight.”

“Thomas?”

Adverting his eyes to the top of the stairs, Thomas beheld Mavis in all her grand austere glory.

“Please come down,” Thomas beckoned Mavis.

Mavis moved slow as she descended the stairs, her eyes landing on Arlene with scrutiny.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Thomas asked.

Shifting her eyes to Thomas, Mavis could see that he was being polite. A thin smile pressed across her lips as she examined Arlene. Mavis’ eyes flowed over her red mane. It was a bit lighter than what Mavis desired, but long and thick, though it was in dire need of washing.

“I take it you’re the missus?” Arlene inquired. “Your gentleman said I would be fucking both of you tonight.”

“Yes,” Mavis replied, “but before we get to that, let’s get you a nice hot bath. I like my girls to be freshly washed from head to toe before I play with them.”

“As you wish, darling.” Arlene beamed her repulsive smile of wonky and missing teeth.

“Please follow me,” Mavis instructed in as polite as could be for her. “After you bathe and wash your hair, do not dress. Come directly to the bedroom in the attic.”

“I can do that, love,” Arlene agreed as she followed Mavis like a lamb to the slaughter.

As Mavis led Arlene to the washroom, Thomas made his way to their bedroom. The bedroom was more so a room of horrors with the scent of death soiled into the walls and wooden floor. He suggested to Mavis that they move out the attic room when their father died, but she insisted that they remain.

Thomas sat in the chair by the foot of the bed, which sat upon a platform. Around the room, Mavis displayed her macabre art of dead butterflies in frames and glass observatories. She stopped collecting butterfly cocoons when they entered their undead life. He could not say he was not satisfied but he hated that she stopped doing something she loved.

Everything in the room was clean and well maintained except the area beside the door. No matter how often Wainsworth scrubbed the wall and the floor, the blood never washed all off. A dull brown stain covered the wall and trailed down to the floor under the dangling metal chain and hook. The chain ran through a metal ring fastened to the ceiling and collected on a spool with a crank attached to the wall. Cuffs and tools of horror hung on a rack.

“Is that the best you could do?” Mavis snipped as she entered the room.

Thomas flicked his eyes to Mavis but said nothing.

“She’s filthy. Why did you get a whore? I know all women are whores, but I did not expect you to get one who is so open about it. Those kinds have the most disgusting diseases,” Mavis continued.

“You wanted a red head,” Thomas spoke. “I searched all night for a red head and that is the only one I came across.”

Mavis stared at Thomas with her mouth posed in enmity. After a moment, the hard expression slipped away. Strolling to him, she ran her fingers through the silky waves of his hair and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. The soothing touch took him back to their youth, alone in the room, holding each other through the night.

“You did well,” Mavis commended in a husky voice laden with arousal.

“Thank you,” Thomas murmured as he buried his face against Mavis’ neck.

Mavis lifted her skirt and petticoat then straddled Thomas’ lap. The lust of an impending feast thrilled him prompting his arousal. Taking his sister by her slender waist, he pulled her close to his strong form groaning as she began to wiggle her hips, his manhood straining in his pants and pressing against her fruit.

Mavis’ lips fell to Thomas’ strong neck, her fangs elongating with the thrilling rush of desire. She nipped and tugged at his taunt flesh with her fangs receiving another groan from him. Slipping his tongue from his mouth, he ran it along her jaw and trailed the tip behind her ear causing her back to arch at the teasing stimulation. A rush of need hit her, and in a frenzy, she made quick work of his suit jacket, waistcoat, collar, cuffs, tie, shirt, and undershirt tossing everything to the floor. His bottom remained clothed with his suspenders dangling from his pants.

Thrusting against Mavis’ crotch, Thomas signaled his need, but she was not ready to release him yet. Cool hands ran over the comparable cool flesh that was hard and tone. Her hands traveled from his tight abdomen upward over his nipples making them ache as they hardened.

“Mav…” Thomas began to moan out, but Mavis silenced him with a kiss.

Pressing into the kiss with earnest need, Thomas welcomed Mavis’ tongue, his fangs nipping and tugging at it as their mouths molded in passion. She dragged her elongated nails over the muscles of his strong shoulders and well-formed biceps giving him gooseflesh with the teasing.

Pulling from the kiss, Thomas pleaded, “Please, I need to see you.”

A smirk played on Mavis’ lips at her brother’s need always enjoying seeing him so bothered and aroused. The arousal of a man was the most fascinating thing. The way they responded to every stimulation and how their minds clouded with their need disrupting their thinking.

“Very well,” Mavis permitted as she stood. “I’ll even let you undress me today.”

Mavis grinned as a shudder coursed through Thomas’ formed. He loved undressing her like she was a Christmas present. Sometimes she even allowed him to dress her, picking out her dresses like she was a baby doll.

Displaying her back to Thomas, Mavis waited for him to unbutton her dress. His fingers slipped over her back, plucking, and pushing the buttons through the holes down her spine to her waist. He ran his gentle hands over her back covered in her underwear and pushed the dress over her small shoulders. She let the dress slip from her body collapsing to the floor around her feet.

Standing in her white undergarments, Mavis wore a petticoat, corset cover, corset, combination drawers, stockings, garters, and her boots. Thomas would undress her a layer at a time.

The corset cover was frilly having red ribbon threaded through the seams above the ruffles around the bottom and on the straps. Mavis’ petticoat matched the corset cover and fell to her feet edged in layers of ruffles. Like the corset cover, the seams above the ruffles were threaded with red ribbon and there were matching bows adorning the sides.

Thomas groaned at Mavis’ frilly undergarments. They were the most delicate parts of her. He flowed his hands over her sides and down her petticoat caressing her slender form. Returning his hands higher, he slipped the corset cover over her head, tossed it to the floor and pushed her petticoat down around her feet. Now the fun part would start.

Mavis wore the popular straight front corset which smoothed her form down the front. Thomas knew his way around a corset as he was the one to lace her up. Unlacing a corset was more akin to unwrapping a present then removing any other form of women’s clothing.

As Thomas ran his fingers over the fibrous strings of Mavis’ corset, his flesh buzzed and throbbed with subtle shocks. Between his thighs, his manhood hardened, the excitement taking over his entire form. Like a guitarist plucking strings, Thomas pulled the bow loose and began picking the laced strings loosening the corset from his sister’s form one string at a time. Once free of her feminine bindings, she allowed him to slip the corset over her head and arms, it too going to the pile of hidden lustful treats.

The combination drawers were a combination of drawers and a chemise into one piece. The one that Mavis wore was split up the back and between the legs which made it easy for her to relieve herself when she was human. Thomas found the split to be very ravishing. The straps on the combination drawers along with the edges of the legs, which fell to the knees, were edged in ruffles and like the corset cover and petticoat, the seams were threaded with red ribbon with bows on the sides of the drawer legs.

Slipping his hands beneath the back split of the combination drawers, Thomas ran them over Mavis’ smooth flesh caressing her back and massaging her shoulder blades. After slipping the top off her arms, his hands moved back to her flesh, his thumbs pressed to her spine as he trailed down to her buttock. He slipped the rest of the combination drawers off letting them join the pile of clothes on the floor then gripped her small perk rump in his hands.

“That’s enough,” Mavis dictated and pushed Thomas’ hands away.

“Your stockings and garters,” Thomas mentioned in sorrow almost like a little boy who had his prized toy taken away.

Thomas aimed his fingers for the red ribbon garters tied at the top of the red stockings, but Mavis stepped away and kicked her clothing to the side. She was still wearing her black boots and he frowned, almost pouted, at her. The image was still divine though, her wispy figure, slender waist, bouncing apples of breasts, and valley of sweetness grown with a tuff of black hair.

Watching Mavis move around the room, Thomas gripped his crotch and began stroking himself through his pants. Retrieving a pair of metal ankle and wrist cuffs from the tool rack, she hung them on the hook, then turned the crank lowering the chain.

“I’m all done with me bath,” Arlene announced as she entered the room with her damp towel dried hair hanging down her shoulders and back.

Thomas did not find Arlene’s form to be enticing. She was shaped like a rectangle with a bit of flab at the bottom of her belly and had sloppy heavy swingers for breasts.

Stepping farther into the room, the unsuspecting Arlene grinned that hideous smile, placed a hand on her hip, brayed in cheer, and chimed, “Starting without me, are you?”

Creeping behind the woman, Mavis announced, “No, you’re just in time for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Arlene asked in confusion as she spun to regard Mavis.

A nefarious grin etched across Mavis’ lips full of sharp fangs. Arlene’s eyes bulged as she staggered back. She then noticed the chain, hook, and cuffs as well as the old stains of blood.

“Please don’t, missus!” Arlene screamed.

“Oh, I will, you pus bag of disease,” Mavis assured as she strolled closer to Arlene. “To think, you thought he would actually want to fuck your filthy cunt with you coming here smelling like another man’s semen.”

“Missus, please let me go. I won’t say a word,” Arlene’s gelatinous form trembled as fear took hold of her.

“Oh, but I’m hungry.” Mavis pasted a pretend pout on her face which was brief being replaced with the evil maw of fangs.

Lashing out, Mavis snatched Arlene by the hair, her fingers twisting and pulling at it with strands tugging from her scalp. Arlene screamed twisting and tugging as she tried to get away.

Though he could not close his ears to the chilling screams, Thomas cast his eyes down to his feet. He wished Mavis were not so villainous with meals, hurting them with all the tormenting her wicked mind could devise. The need to eat was devastating, but as soon as Mavis cut into Arlene, his somber mood would fade away being replaced by the gluttonous need of a night fiend.

Mavis slammed Arlene onto the floor so hard her face cracked on the wood. Blood sprouted from the woman’s nose and burst lip with her screams escalating to an Arctic chill. Placing her foot on the woman’s back, Mavis grinded the heel of her boot into her flesh. Grasping the ankle cuffs from the hook, Mavis shackled Arlene’s ankles. Retrieving the other cuffs, Mavis did the same to Arlene’s wrists.

“Stand up, worthless slut!” Mavis demanded as she removed her foot from Arlene’s back.

The trembling, wailing lump of flesh struggled to her feet. As Mavis snatched Arlene’s hands above her head, the woman’s fear gripped her so tight she voided her bladder with the yellow waste streaming down her legs to puddle on the floor.

“You see why I kept my boots on?” Mavis asked glancing over her shoulder at Thomas though her words were rhetorical. “I knew this one was a pisser.”

Not lifting his head too high, Thomas observed his sister who was grinning like a little girl with a brand-new dolly. The smell of fear washed off Arlene and hit him, her feelings so heavy and cringe worthy. Lifting his head higher, he focused on Arlene’s red painted face as streams of blood ran from her nose and lip to trickle down her chest, dripping off her nipple to dot the floor. The sight and scent of blood was maddening, and his fangs elongated. Staring at Arlene, his lips curled back into a snarl as both hunger and lust fueled him.

Leaping from his chair, Thomas closed the distance between him and the two women. As Mavis hung the cuffs on Arlene’s wrists on the hook, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. One of his hands grasped Mavis’ valley between her thighs while the other cupped her breast. His mouth nipped and pressed kisses along Mavis’ neck as he grinded the endowed lump in his pants against her.

“Oooh, brother.” Mavis grinned as Thomas fondled her form.

Watching Arlene’s face, Mavis smirked as the horror in her eyes deepened as the realization of Mavis and Thomas’ incestuous nature was revealed. The realization was yet another horror to toss on the pile that was the bonfire of Arlene’s poor traumatized brain.

Snatching Thomas’ hands from her form, Mavis tossed them away with disdain issuing a warning hiss. He groaned in displeasure and leaned in sniffing at her as she walked away from him. At the crank, she turned the handle lifting the morsel in the air.

“Doesn’t the feast look well?” Mavis asked Thomas.

Thomas was wound so tight his head was going to burst. All he could muster was a gnarled guttural utterance to Mavis’ words. Laughing at his state, she retrieved a vicious knife from the rack and returned to Arlene who had stopped screaming and was simpering as she begged for her life.

Thomas focused his eyes on Arlene. Her eyes were like saucers boring into him with the same accusation that Edith’s had when she was dangling from the hook. Dropping his gaze, he tried not to concentrate on his regret, his frustration, his hunger.

A flash hit Thomas’ mind coming fast and hard with the emotion great. The flash came from Arlene’s mind and he saw the interior of her squalid room. There was a baby in a dresser drawer with ratty covers swaddling it and its head was dusted with red vellus hair. Gasping, he staggered back and gawked at her.

“Thomas?” Mavis snapped. “What is wrong with you?”

“Mavis, please,” Thomas spewed with urgency. “Come, let us talk a bit.”

Gripping Mavis’ wrist, Thomas dragged her out the room.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mavis demanded as her grip tighten on the hilt of the knife.

“We need to rethink this meal,” Thomas insisted in an unhinged state.

Mavis narrowed her eyes at Thomas as she examined him from head to toe noticing the deflation in his pants.

Adverting her gaze to Thomas’ face, Mavis asked, “Why?”

Thomas hesitated for a moment. His lips slipped apart as he contemplated how Mavis would act. She was volatile and sometimes unreasonable in the extreme.

“She has a child,” Thomas stated with caution. “An infant. It is still nursing.”

“Thomas…” Mavis started but was cut short.

“We will be killing not one but two people,” he tried to convince her. “She lived alone.”

Mavis’ face hardened at a slow rate as if it were going through degrees of freezing. Thomas swallowed the thick lump in his throat knowing what that countenance entailed. Wrath, pure wrath, and cruelty was going to wash from those lips.

“What makes her child’s life worth more than our child’s?” Mavis’ voice was flat, direct, and callous.

Thomas could not respond to those words. He had never voiced his opinion about their unborn child being snatched away because the truth of what he thought would both anger and wound her. The belief that the child should have never been conceived always lived within him. Conceiving a child with his sister was the most abhorrent thing he could have done, not only to himself, but to the child as well.

Mavis rejected Thomas’ act of kindheartedness and returned to their room with him in tow.

“Well,” Mavis addressed Arlene with a grin on her face, “it seems my brother here is concerned about your baby that is still on your tit.”

“Oh, missus, please don’t hurt my baby!” Arlene blabbered as she started to sob again. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”

“Oh no, I’m not going to hurt the baby,” Mavis assured Arlene as she stepped to the tool rack, “but I am going to hurt you.” Exchanging the knife for a pair of surgical scissors, Mavis returned to Arlene. “It seems that my brother thinks that your little bastard’s life is more important than our unborn child that was murdered by our father. So, I was thinking, you could feed him. Well, obviously you will be feeding us both, but I think you should feed him by your tit.” Mavis reached to Arlene’s breast and with a snip of the scissors, she disfigured her by cutting off her nipple.

Arlene squealed and writhed on the hook as blood poured from her breast in a stream and puddled on the floor. Thomas gasped at Mavis’ show of barbarism. He had believed that Mavis possessed some restraints, but now that belief no longer existed.

“Go on, Thomas,” Mavis dictated as she shoved Thomas forward. “Nurse her tit.”

Staggering forward, Thomas stared at the mutilated breast as the stream of crimson seeped from it. He was appalled with his mind blazing as it fought with itself. His reasonable side told him it was wrong, debased, and savage, but his fiendish side churned like an inferno spinning out of control. The blood, the smell, the color, all of it called to him with his stomach twisting and knitting into knots. Possessed by the life force, he released the beast.

A growl of hunger and need ripped from Thomas’ throat, and his head flipped back as his lips skimmed tight from teeth sharp and gleaming in the yellow light of the room. Standing below the stream of blood, he let it trickle into his mouth filling it as he gulped it down. The blood splattered in his face, poured over his lips, and ran down his chest painting him macabre as he bathed in its richness.

Watching from the side, Mavis grinned wide and her eyes sparkled at the stunning beast that her brother was. Thomas always needed a little push at times, but always he came around and it shall be like that forever. She loved what she did to him, how blood set his inhibitions free with it fueling his arousal leading to a monumental orgasm.

Addressing her need as Thomas gorged on blood, Mavis traded the scissors for the knife. Standing before the screaming mess of a tortured bovine, she stabbed the knife into the woman’s gut below her navel. The cut was not so deep to harm organs as Mavis did not want to ruin her toy too soon. Slicing the knife downward, Mavis cut the woman to the top of her pubic area.

Satisfied, Mavis discarded the knife and stood under the pour of blood with her mouth opened as Thomas was doing. As she feasted, she bathed in the crimson with it flowing over her face Christening her with life. The blood ran over the firm peaks on her chest streaming down her belly and thighs. Taking one last gulp of blood she stepped back, her mind whirling with ecstasy, but she was still hungered.

Grasping Arlene’s leg, Mavis bit into her plump calf with her fangs slicing, digging, and tugging at her flesh. Blood squirted out the tiny holes like mini geysers filling her mouth and she gulped it down sucking at the wound like a leech on a summer afternoon.

Becoming full, Mavis filled her mouth with Arlene’s blood and pulled away. Going to Thomas who was still feasting, Mavis grabbed his chin and pulled his face to hers. Their lips connected and Mavis fed him the blood in her mouth. They shared the blood with some spilling out pass their lips. Their tongues slipped into each other’s mouth with their teeth nipping their organs. The sibling’s arousal was ignited.

Seizing Thomas’ wrist, Mavis tugged him to the bed. Settling on the end of the bed with him standing in front of her, she unbuttoned his fly with her swift fingers and tugged his pants and underwear down. His large engorged rod jutted forward demanding her attention. After retracting her fangs, she gripped him at the base, parted her lips wide, and engulfed his hefty meat.

“Ugh!” Thomas cried out.

Mavis’ full lips cinched around Thomas’ girth and she slid them along his impressive length. She did not have any gag reflects and she crammed him down her gullet with her lips pressing against his pelvis.

Another cry of pleasure passed Thomas’ lips with him closing his eyes and his muscles bunching as he held his body tight. One fist was placed at his lips and he bit into one of his fingers down to the bone with blood trailing over his hand and arm. The other fist, gripped Mavis’ hair and he held her steady as he thrust his hips toward her mouth, pumping his rod in her throat. Her hands caressed his hips flowing behind him to squeeze and knead his soft rear before moving back to his hips.

Drool oozed from Mavis’ lips as Thomas had his way with her mouth. Removing one hand from his hips, she ran it over his bloody abdomen and chest enjoying the hardness of his figure. She loved her brother and though she was hard on him, it was in these moments that her tenderness showed. Her needs were not limited to possessing him. She needed to make him feel good and to share her body with him. Pleasure was an intoxicating thing and a man’s addiction to it allowed a woman to possess his being.

Pulling back from Thomas, Mavis’ lips flowed off his pole with a sweet pop. Falling to his knees in front of her, he pressed kisses along her bloody flesh, his tongue lapping along the way. His cool tongue lapped over her nipple and she groaned as it became hard. Sucking her breast into his mouth, he nursed it not unlike a child, the blood on her flesh coming off in his mouth as he praised her.

“Oh, Thomas,” Mavis groaned as she buried her fingers in his hair, her back arching as pleasure stirred in her.

Pulling away from Mavis’ breast, Thomas lapped a trail through the blood on her stomach to her pubic area where he buried his face in her aromatic bush.

“You need to eat me,” Mavis demanded in heat.

“Yes…yes…,” Thomas replied discombobulated as if yes consisted of his entire vocabulary.

Gripping Mavis by her slim waist, Thomas laid her on the bed. After removing the rest of his clothes, he joined her. Flipping the lithe form onto her hands and knees, he spread her legs as wide as he could. The view of her sweet puckered hole and juicy peach made his mouth water with hunger. Starting at her ankles, his hands flowed over the boots, up the stocking covered legs, over the satiny garters, the delicate sweet thighs to her small apple of a bottom. Unable to prolong his wanton hunger, he flicked his tongue out and buried his face between her cheeks, his wet tongue lapping as he tasted her back hole.

As Thomas tasted her, Mavis’ clitoris throbbed, and her thighs quivered with excitement. The debasing act always thrilled her as his willingness to put his mouth on the lowest part of her body showed his feelings for her. Pressing back, she wiggled her hips and rubbed her rump in his face.

As Thomas tongued Mavis’ rear, he slipped a finger into her chilled slit to the base and her walls clamped around it. He enjoyed the way her body responded to his skillful touch and the sweet little sounds she made. She never let her guard down allowing herself to become vulnerable, except during sex.

Taking one last lap of Mavis’ pucker, Thomas then removed his finger and crammed his face into her delicious slit causing her to scream and quiver as he thrust his fat tongue into her core. She grabbed the sheets and cried out feeling her time near. Feeling her impending moment coming, he kept delving his tongue into her tunnel feeling her velvet walls quake. Letting out another scream, she climaxed with her cream flowing over his probing tongue and her juices spraying his chin and neck. Pulling his tongue from her hole, he let the remainder of her cream ooze onto it then sucked it down.

“Thomas…” Mavis groaned feeling weak as she collapsed to the bed.

Mounting Mavis, Thomas shoved his hard meat into her front passage and bucked inside her. His mouth fell to her neck and his fingers laced with hers, holding them tight. His manhood filled her entire tunnel and sometimes the experience was painful as he was large and magnificent. His large form pressed against her back pinning her petite form beneath him. Every time the head of his manhood hammered her cervix she screamed in delight and when he tugged out leaving the tip in, she would flex her tunnel gripping him as if demanding him to come back in. The siblings’ love making was more than blissful, it was ineffable, divine, and pure.

As he continued to abuse Mavis’ hole, Thomas growled and snarled in her ear as he nipped at her neck and earlobe. Her ears had always been sensitive and when they were stimulated a rich tingling sensation crawled over her flesh. He lapped the area behind her ear and her passage quaked around him.

“Thomas!” Mavis shouted in desire.

Thomas did not respond but kept stimulating Mavis’ form and giving her all of him. Her vaginal walls began to spasm and it was his turn to cave. A loud groan passed his lips as her tunnel constricted around him. Her hole held him tight as she screamed releasing again with her juices squeezing and flowing from her body. Her small body shuddered beneath him as waves of ecstasy consumed her. Soon she lay still beneath him as her body relaxed.

As his length was released, Thomas continued his thrusting but not for much longer. His form tensed with his muscles bulging. Latching his mouth onto the back of Mavis’ neck as though he was a dominating wolf, he slammed his length in and held himself there as he shouted bathing her insides with his infertile juice.

Serenity presented itself. A calmness presided over the room as the two let the afterglow flow through them. Thomas rested his cheek on the back of Mavis’ head and curled his arms around her, his fingers still entangled with hers. They were together, it was simple, it was blissful, it was eternity.

Feeling Mavis wiggle under him, Thomas slid off her and laid on his back. She crawled to him and laid her head upon his strong pectoral with his arm coming down to cuddle her.

Thomas and Mavis did not know when Arlene ceased her howling and they did not care, but she had faded to darkness in an unconscious state.

Beautiful moments like this made Thomas want to stay connected with Mavis, but he knew it would be over soon and she would be back to consuming his energy with her antagonistic and obsessive ways. He wondered if he was asking for too much. Was it selfish to desire everything to be perfect and sublime?

Mavis’ fingers traced patterns through Thomas’ chest hairs that were sticky with blood while his fingers did the same to her shoulder. A gentle hum played on her lips and he smiled. Her voice was always alluring and though the lullaby haunted him, he always enjoyed it at this moment and soon she began to sing.

“Let the wind blow kindly

In the sail of your dreams

And the moon light your journey

And bring you to me

We can’t live in the mountains

We can’t live out at sea

Where oh, where oh, my lover

Shall I come to thee?”

Mavis’ voice spiraled to a slow trail until the end of the song. Thomas smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. Haunting and magnificent described her voice and the lullaby, and as when they were children, the feeling of peace, safeness, and love surrounded him.

For the rest of the night, the two lay in bed upon the bloody sheets and blankets with their bodies sticky from their love juices and Arlene’s blood. Their eyes were closed and neither cared if Arlene lived or died, they would deal with it the next night. Staying in each other’s arms, they died as the sun rose in the sky.

\----

lullaby: the lullaby that Mavis sings is from the movie Crimson Peak and was sung by the character Lucille Sharpe.

\----

Thank you for reading and please feel free to share, bookmark, add to a collection, give a kudo, or leave a comment.

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I currently have three stories going and I rotate between them. I will be writing/editing five chapters then moving to another story and doing the same. I will now rotate from this story. Thank you and stay tuned.

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